blief

While The Mommy and Emma slept, Abby and I watched The Kentucky Derby. This is a household tradition from way back. My brother has some details on his blog and BopOp as well. I still remember 1981 and Pleasant Colony. I remember Easy Goer vs Sunday Silence. I remember the fun and the heartbreak of Barbaro. I remember many of the jockeys and all of the 10 cent bets. I remember that we have missed a few here and there and the following disappointment at not paying close enough attention to “popular culture”.
Well we didn’t miss it this weekend and a simple statement made by Abby changed the goal I think

‘Let me ‘splain…No, there is too much; Let me sum up.’

Abby picked the Derby winner, and while he was winning I was pointing out her horse amidst a field of brown, black, and multicolored jockeys letting her know that he was in prime striking position. Then in the homestretch she was uber excited watching ‘her horse’ race for the wire. It was harder to keep an eye on her, with all the jumping around, than it was to locate her horse in the field.

Is he winning!? Is that Big Brown!? He’s winning!?! He’s WINNING!!

She was ecstatic when he crossed the line.
Then she was near to tears moments later because of the filly, Eight Belles, euthanized on the track with two broken legs despite a gamey second place finish.
We had a long talk.
Later, when The Mommy was awake Abby broke the news:

Do you wanna cry first or cheer first?
Ahh, cry first? Cause I wanna cheer later.
Ok. [flatly] Your horse died.
[you see Eight Belles was The Mommy’s horse and so a lot of ‘really? yes. descriptions of conditions; then really? yes. Died Died? yes, died died. and some tears welling up ensued and then]
Now do you wanna cheer?!
Well yeah.
My horse WON!!

But earlier, on the phone with Monya, the comment that changed the paradigm:

Hello?
Yeah, Gramma, my horse won.
[…]
Yeah.
[…]
Yeah.
[…]
Yeah, I was sad too. I almost cried.
[…]
Yeah.
[…, …, …]
No, I think I get maybe a trophy or something.

The question was “did you win a lot of money?” because we traditionally bet $.10 on our horse and the winner (or closest to the winner) takes all.
But I propose a new prize, a trophy. One each for the Kentucky Derby, The Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes. All of the rest of the rules (that we have built up over the years) apply but the winner gets the trophy for that race for the year and turns it over to the winner the following year. A triple crown could potentially rest all three trophy’s in somebody’s house for a year.

The $.10 bet was always token yet I recall as a 10 year old the import behind losing that $.10. It was tough. So this, I think, takes the money thing out of it and makes it somehow better, with a growing history of winners.
Leave it to a 5 year old to change a 25+ year tradition for the better.

According to wikipedia, “The syllogism is at the core of deductive reasoning, where facts are determined by combining existing statements…”

The Wee One performed her first recognizable act of deductive reasoning tonight with a syllogism that went like this.

Major Premise: Monsters are huge.
Minor Premise: Elmo (melmo) is a monster.
Conclusion: Elmo is huge?

Let’s do that in prose shall we?

This morning Le Grande Mermaid asked, while watching Sesame Street;

What is Elmo anyway?
Well, Elmo is…a monster.
Oh.

Fast forward to bedtime. The Wee One approached the unsuspecting Daddy with one of those nose-whoppers that only a two year old could live with. It was hanging on for dear life and I exclaimed,

Whoa! HUGE boogie!
yeth
Mommy, do you have a tissue?
[Mommy, approaching seconds later with a tissue]
Holy cow, yeah, that is a monster boogie! [wiped]

and then, the syllogistic leap, after a moments pause Emma authoritatively stated the obvious conclusion,

Melmo boogie.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new family phrase.

I am not sure just how this one is going to work on ‘paper’ but here goes.
 
A few mornings ago, The Wee One woke up within 10 minutes of 5AM as she has on sooo many mornings. Her stomach, you see, is a very reliable alarm clock. I trudged up, came in to pick her up and despite the 5 o’clock shadow on my brain I knew that she would need her “sass” (pacifier) when she was done nursing. It is always better to get both (Wee One and sass) on the first trip.


[half crying] Mommee back! Mommee back! [putting her arms out as I came in] Holdjuw! meoh urst, meoh urst, meoh urst.
[as if somehow the repetition cements the deal…well okay maybe it does]

Yeah yeah honey, you can have some ‘milk first’.
Where’s your sass?
okay [waiting]


I fumble around a bit but a simple two watt nightlight and without contacts I am really better off with echolocation, call me batty. So my hand is sweeping through the bed running over Barbies and discarded who-tails listening for that distinctive clicking of the sass ring when Emma’s pleading for ‘meoh’ suddenly ceases and she gives a little chuckle and points at the area directly in front of her.


Ight dow! (right there)

So she reaches down and picks it up herself, right out of the middle of my clear blue fog.

It may not sound like much but that was seminal.

My (not even) two year old was pretty much mocking me; “it’s right there in front of your face! Hello? What are you blind? Here, let me GET that for you. Eesh!”
If I could have seen a thing in that room I suspect it would have been eyeroll and now here, in the clear light of day, I see my future and it is chock-full of the Wee One’s mocking. But I demand respect!

Respect for one’s elders!
You, existing elders, know of what I speak:
When you see ones gloves on the ground you pick ’em up! They shouldn’t be misplaced.
When you see the vise hanging loose in the garage, make sure it’s good and tight.
And if you see that their radio stations aren’t cool anymore? Make sure and change the presets…all of em…to the same thing.

[sigh] What goes around comes around I guess, so take heart, afore-mocked readers The Wee One is on to me.